


How Proust Changed My Life

by CatherineJosephineMarie007



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cliques and Outcasts, F/F, F/M, Gen, I like Proust, M/M, Multi, So much cannon divergence, no really, what is this even, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineJosephineMarie007/pseuds/CatherineJosephineMarie007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Brienne Tarth, recent transfer from Bitterbridge U-- her life in King's Landing is about to get way more populated than she ever anticipated.</p><p>Also, this entire thing was basically thought up around a quote from Proust, which will probably be attributed to Olenna Tyrell in this, just because she seems like she'd agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a thing. That I wrote. I was kind of inspired by an Avengers fic with this kind of feel, but then I started writing and I just... people aren't even the same ages as their cannon counterparts, you guys. I've aged up and down, changed shit all up, I can't even. But I love it, and part 2 is written. So we'll see how it goes.

1.  
Okay, so let me see if I can explain to you how things run up in this bitch—Margaery Tyrell is the Queen of the Queen Bees. She’s shrewd, smart and sexy—but she never uses her power as the unofficial leader of the female student body against those who are beneath her (i.e.: everyone). She’s Glinda the Good Witch, steadfastly trying to raise poor unfortunates up to her level. (That’s how Brienne got sucked in.)

Margaery’s best friend is Sansa Stark—adorable ginger band geek, and if you think that didn’t warrant a LOT of comparisons to Alyson Hannigan from American Pie, quotes included, then you’re wrong. But she’s freckled and friendly and forthright, always giving people the benefit of the doubt. She and Margaery have been nearly inseparable since they were eleven, when Sansa had a crush on Margaery’s brother Loras and the brunette was forced to break it to the redhead that Loras “didn’t exactly play for their team”. Once Sansa got over her embarrassment, the three of them formed a strong friendship, which they added Renly to when the time came. Renly and Loras went to University of Westeros King’s Landing, and Margaery and Sansa followed a year later. The four of them rule supreme.

Melisandre Asshai comes from some crazy rich family in Essos, but was sent to live with her grandmother in Westeros after one too many flings with the pool boys—apparently her parents didn’t appreciate the high turnover rate at their house when it came to the hired help. She’s willowy and wispy and willful—if she has her sights set on you, you should be afraid. But she does do what she thinks is best, and most of the time the rest of the girls can stave off disaster.

Arya Stark is Sansa’s little sister, just two years younger—she was tiny and tough and tempestuous, a little tomboy, just over four feet of terror. She likes sports and dimly lit pubs like Brienne, and they’d spent a large part of their relatively short acquaintance smuggling Arya into bars after a disastrous day of classes.

If Margaery is Glinda the Good, UWKL’s head cheerleader is the Wicked Witch of the West. Cersei Lannister was probably the most beautiful girl you’d ever see up close, but it was a cold, unobtainable flawlessness that shone out of her from every pore. She was always surrounded by the rest of the cheerleaders and some of the jocks, but you couldn’t really say they were her friends. She was the Queen, so she held court. Well, all except for Shae Smith. She always sat next to Cersei, whispering in her ear what must have been truly awful things, if the stony smirk on Cersei’s face was any indication.

Most girls at UWKL made it their life’s goal to never be on the receiving end of that smirk—in fact, it had been that way since their days at King’s Landing High—and Brienne Tarth was no exception. She knew what she looked like, and knew everything the Golden Queen would say if she ever set eyes on her; it was doubtful Cersei would come up with anything new. 

It was a total boon, then, that on her first week after transferring from Bitterbridge College that she stumbled upon where the rest of the freaks hid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out about the boys, and Tyrion makes some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything, this is all a complex fever dream using stuff thought up by GRRM, and D&DB. PS, when I say football, I mean what would be called football in the UK, i.e. soccer.  
> Bonus marks for finding the Parks and Rec reference!  
> ** Also, Brienne is meant to be a mix of GRRM canon and Gwendoline Christie, because I love her and I just found myself having trouble completely cutting her portrayal from Brienne's description.

2\. The boys are different, but then again they always are; five years ago the King of the Castle was Robert Baratheon, then he graduated and went on to a promising political career. After that it was Golden Boy Jaime Lannister—at least until all that Targaryen shit, then nobody wanted to follow in his footsteps. 

      These days the King was football star Robb Stark, but he was almost too shy to really accept that everyone with a Y-chromosome wanted to emulate him. So the guys who actually cared existed in a sort of fluid holding pattern, one eye on Robb and the other trying to concentrate on ‘being yourself’ or whatever Robb was trying to enforce. 

      Tyrion Lannister wasn’t one of the boys who cared—but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t paying attention. He always paid attention. With his father, you had to—being able to know who was within reaching distance of him at any given time was massively helpful for someone like him. Today Tyrion was taking his first real step toward an independent life—an hour before the signup deadline passed, he’d signed up for a second year art seminar and then charged all the supplies to his father—by the time he got the statement, it would be too late. Dean Baratheon wouldn’t let his father wave a wad of money in his face and get Tyrion out of the class; that was one of the many advantages of going to a school whose headmaster was NOT in his family’s pocket. 

      “Hodor.”

       Tyrion shuffled out of the way for a rather large man carrying easily sixteen easels. “Sorry,” Tyrion said, because what else can you say to a giant man who passes you carrying easels and says “Hodor?” 

      “Don’t mind him,” said a kid behind a desk. “That’s just Hodor.” 

      “Is he a student?” he asked, examining the big man—he looked like he was on the other side of thirty. 

      “Dunno. Nobody knows. He just shows up, really.” The kid replied. Tyrion took another look at the other kid—if Hodor was too old to be a student, this kid was surely too young. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. 

      “Are _you_ a student?” Tyrion raised a brow. 

      “I’m here taking extra classes from the high school,” he explained. “I’m Bran.” 

      “Tyrion.” They shook hands. 

      “You are the new student—transferred in right before the deadline to trade classes.” a new voice came from behind Tyrion, and he turned-- the man standing up against the door frame was olive-skinned and good looking, dressed in loose khakis and a gold cotton shirt, open at the collar. "That was very sneaky of you, Mr Lannister."  


  


"Had to be sure it wouldn't be over-turned on appeal." Tyrion replied dryly. The man laughed.  
"I am Oberyn Martell, your teacher. You have never taken an art course here before, correct?"  
"I've never even been on this side of campus before."  
"They do tend to keep us out of the way."  
"In case we accidentally mix with the business majors, and they get secondary imagination," a blond boy around Tyrion's age poked Professor Martell out of the way and entered the classroom. "Don't want them to do something crazy like accidentally solve Westeros' financial crisis."  
"Be nice to our new friend, Jojen." Martell went to cuff the boy on the side of the head, but Jojen ducked out of the way. "I trust you were well-behaved on your break?"  
"Hey you know me, Professor M," Jojen winked. "I'm the picture of innocence."  
"Ah yes, but a picture is worth a thousand words, is it not? That makes me wonder about the nature of this 'picture of innocence'."  
A freckled girl with wild red hair rolled her eyes at her professor.  
"Speak for yourself-- how's Ellaria?" she yelled across the classroom.  
"Sit down, Ygritte."  
Jojen snickered as Ygritte flopped down into her seat.  
"We will do our best to make you feel at home here, Tyrion."  
"Um...thanks."  
"Now, everyone take a seat around the pillar, please-- we are going to begin. Bran, would you get Tyrion a sketch pad?"  
"Sure thing," Bran smiled, and when he went to go to the wide array of shelves on the wall, Tyrion noticed he was in a wheelchair.  
"Fell out a window."  
"What?"  
"The chair. I fell out a window when I was ten, broke my back."  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare." Tyrion mentally kicked himself-- like he didn't know what it was like to have people watch him cross a room. Idiot.  
"That's okay-- I just find it's easier to tell people than to wait for them to ask. Everyone thinks it's really rude to wonder, for some reason."

Tyrion liked Bran. Seemed like a nice kid.

Oberyn Martell's class was unlike any Tyrion had ever attended; most of the students called him by his first name, and those that didn't simply called him 'Professor M'. The pillar was a wide, squat Doric column, about the height of Tyrion and as big around as a tea table. On it Oberyn placed a ship in a bottle.  
"Now, we've borrowed this from the new history professor's office. Hopefully Mr Seaworth will not notice."  
"You stole it?" asked a girl to his right. She didn't sound critical-- in fact she almost sounded approving.  
"No, Asha, never!" Oberyn looked wounded at the accusation. "Bronn stole it for me."  
Everyone looked at a tall fourth year guy in a leather jacket. "All his shit was still in boxes, Obe, he won't notice it gone. I'll put it back when we're done."  
"How obliging of you, Bronn, thank you. Now! I want everyone to try and shape the outline of this bottle, then fit the outline of the ship into it. Don't focus on the details; we're going to take it easy for our first day back."

Once they were done, and Tyrion's drawing was dubbed as being 'most promising', Oberyn let them go. He looked to the clock-- a whole hour early. Wicked. Tyrion was just contemplating going to lunch when he sensed someone standing close behind him. Bronn towered there, easily twice his height, and slouched over an unlit cigarette.  
"You new?"  
"Second year, business." Tyrion replied. "But I'm thinking of changing majors."  
That was a lie, really-- up until an hour ago, he'd considered this class a rebellion, a big 'screw you' to old Tywin, but he really liked it. If all the art classes were like this, then maybe he SHOULD transfer.  
"Bit of a loner, ain't ya?"  
"What?"  
"You walked past me and my mate on your way in-- all scrunched up, looking at the sidewalk. Can't imagine people'd be lining up to be your friend, even with your last name."  
Just when he thought art students weren't all pretentious dickweeds.  
"Thanks for reminding me."  
"Fuck off, I was just gonna say that I knew of a place where you might fit in."  
"Really."  
"Come on, let's go sneak this back into Seaworth's office and I'll show you."  
Thankfully Professor Seaworth wasn't in his office, searching frantically and yelling about his ship in a bottle. So Bronn got Tyrion to hold the stupid thing while he picked the lock on the door, and then they stuffed it back into the newspaper Bronn had fished it out of.  
"Did Oberyn tell you to go get this?"  
"He likes to 'borrow' things from the new professors, to see how long it takes before they realise it's missing. But Seaworth's a friend of the Dean, so we decided to put it back right away." Bronn re-locked the door and started down the hall. "Come on."  
They went past the drama classrooms and the two dance studios, both filled with people, and Bronn turned the knob on a door marked 'University Personnel Only'. Inside were shelves upon shelves of props and costumes from previous spring musicals-- piles of cowboy hats, once stacked neatly but now knocked over; ladies' evening gloves hanging faded and dusty over plastic hand molds no doubt bought to keep them nice; a ratty box labelled 'BOW TIES'; the papier-mache head of a crocodile*. Tyrion followed Bronn past it all, and they turned right at the huge filing cabinets marked 'SHEET MUSIC'. And there, deep in the back of the stacks, a space had been cleared below a high window. A dusty looking settee had been shoved up against the wall, and next to that was the back end of a 48 Ford Deluxe that had been hollowed out for some production or another, and now was covered in pink frilly throw pillows and a furry blanket the colour of a muppet.  
Two of the girls from his class, Asha and Ygritte, were spread out on the Deluxe and hadn't noticed them yet.  
"I quite like him. He's got dangerous eyes."  
"Never been my thing."  
Ygritte shook the magazine they were reading at her friend. "What, are you mad? Drogo's one hot piece of man cake."  
"Man cake? That's demeaning, that is." Bronn finally announced their presence.  
"Shut up, Bronn, I bet you'd give your right ball to be demeaned by me."  
"Not the right one-- maybe the left." Bronn shrugged. "Tyrion's gonna be our newest member."  
"Member? This is a club?"  
"Slacker Society, the Layabout League, Bunch of Burnouts," Asha ticked them off on her fingers. "We've come up with all kinds of alliterations. Basically this is where the cool people hang out. The cool people who don't care if other people think they're cool."  
Ygritte got up and pulled on the ends of her denim cut-offs, straightening them. Then she marched over to Tyrion and knelt down so they were eye to eye.  
"We've crafted this place from nothing," she began seriously. "No one comes in here anymore, not since Baratheon stopped approving musicals. So we got the run of it, yeah? But if anyone blabs, it'll be overrun by sport scholarships and girls like your cunt cousin." Ah, Cersei. Everyone always mentions Cersei. "So if you talk, I will rip your balls off and make you wear them around your neck. Understand?"  
Tyrion stared at her, wide-eyed. This girl was insane. It was kind of hot. So he nodded enthusiastically and Ygritte went back to the Deluxe sofa.  
"Trust me, I don't talk to my cousin Cersei; she likes it that way. Even if I did try to tell her about this place, she'd probably have one of her football Neanderthals drop kick me across campus.  
Bronn snorted. "There's an image."  
"So are we the only people who come in here?"  
"Nah, there's the graphic design guys, and Gilly, and Osha, and Meera, if she's around. A few others. There's always nerds who need a home."  
Just then the door across the room opened and slammed shut on mocking, girlish laughter. The sound cut off abruptly, and Asha held up a finger to her lips. Ygritte switched off the tasseled lamp in the corner, and Bronn sat up straight, staring in the direction of the door.  
They could hear heavy breathing, then a half-sob. Whoever it was seemed to pull themselves together though, because they heard the squeak of sneakers and a deep sigh. Then footsteps.

Shit.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped and Tyrion turned slowly. A very tall person was standing at the turn into their space, staring at him. Not knowing what else to do, Tyrion raised a hand in a wave.  
The mystery person came closer, and Tyrion got a good look-- chin length blonde hair, face full of freckles. Crooked nose. Very blue eyes. It was only when he spied a hint of breasts in the loose-fitting Jet Black Pope sweater that he realised it was a girl. That became a bit more noticeable the closer she got-- her legs were long and well defined in her skinny jeans, too slim to belong to any man-- and while her hands were large, the palms were slim and fingers long.  
"Um... hi." she said as she reached him. There was only one thing Tyrion could say.  
"Holy shit, you're tall."  
Bronn snickered. "Everyone's tall to you."  
The new girl looked like she was about to reprimand Bronn, but he cut her off.  
"Too true, but she's probably taller than you! That's a whole other class of woman right there." he grinned at her. "I'm Tyrion."  
"Brienne."  
"What brings you to our humble abode?" Bronn asked.  
"Um, I was.... well, it was..." she began to blush, andt he unattractive red spread from her cheeks to cover her face and bleed down her neck.  
"No need to be embarrassed. Osha found this place because she fucked up one of Shae's lighting cues and the crazy bitch was chasing her." Asha didn't even look up from her magazine.  
"...Oh. Well I was going back to my dorm, and... Cersei..."  
Tyion remembered high-pitched laughter that had chased Brienne into their midst. "Say no more."  
Ygritte traded approving nods with the others before looking to Brienne. "Welcome to your new home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The musicals UWKL has props for (the ones in my head when I wrote it)-- Oklahoma!, Hello Dolly!, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Peter Pan, Legally Blonde and Grease. I was just thinking of musicals, there's no way I was writing Westerosi ones!  
> But for extra points, give me your best GRRM-ified musical titles!


	3. Chapter 3

3.

It took most of the next two weeks for Tyrion and Brienne to meet all of the ‘Nerds Who Need a Home’— Tyrion was glad to show up one Tuesday morning to find Bran wheeled up next to the sofa, playing video games with Jojen on a modified console/laptop setup. When they had to leave, they simply closed up shop and shoved everything into the backpack hanging off Bran’s wheelchair.

_Ingenious little fucks!_ Tyrion thought.

Brienne found herself with more female friends than she’d ever had in her life. She didn’t skip all her classes that first day, like Ygritte suggested, but did come back around dinner time to find Bronn and Tyrion gone (for food, Asha informed her) and another girl spread out on the sofa in Bronn’s place. Her name was Osha.

“You’re new?” she asked Brienne once the introductions had been made.

“Yeah,” Brienne nodded. Osha’s wide dark eyes staring at her were seriously unnerving. “I had to come to King’s Landing to do my doctoral thesis. The program at Bitterbridge doesn’t really have the resources I need.”

“Who’s your supervisor?” Ygritte asked.

“Dr Goodwin, back in the Stormlands—he helped me with my Masters, and I send all of my work to him.”

Ygritte nodded, clearly only asking to be polite, but Brienne appreciated it; people usually went out of their way to avoid speaking to her. The girls all looked up when the door opened, and waited for someone to come around the filing cabinets.

The boy who did had a mess of curly black hair, a few days’ beard growth, and the dirtiest hands Brienne had ever seen outside of her father’s farm.  
“There you are, Jon Snow.” Ygritte waited a beat, then vaulted off the Deluxe and jumped into boy’s arms. Their kiss was so passionate that Brienne looked politely away, blushing. “We have a new friend.” She turned to Brienne.

“Jon,” the boy smiled, offering his hand.

Brienne shook it and introduced herself.

“Sam’s on his way in, but he wanted to wait at first year English Lit to walk Gilly here.”

Ygritte, Osha and Asha all rolled their eyes in unison so perfect you’d have thought it was practiced.

“Of course he did,” Osha replied. She moved her feet so Brienne could sit on the sofa, then explained. “Gilly’s our friend too, and Sam’s sweet on her.”

“Does Gilly like him back?” Brienne asked. In her head she was hoping that her new friends, who seemed very nice, weren’t enabling a guy to harass some poor girl who wasn’t interested.

“We all think so, but she won’t say.” Asha shook her head. “Can’t say I blame her, though.” She looked up at Brienne from her history text book. “We’re all a little protective of Gilly. Meera found her in the girls’ bathroom down the hall throwing up. She’s pregnant, y’see, and she was trying to keep it quiet. The boy who did it’s back up at the Wall, where she’s from. He doesn’t want anything to do with either of them. So we’re collectively stepping up.”

“Meera made us step up.” Ygritte lowered her legs from around Jon’s waist. “She can be mighty unkind with the words when she wants to be.”  
Just then the girl in question came around the corner; Gilly was sweet looking, a little buck-toothed perhaps, but she had clear dark eyes and a pretty face. Her baby bump was covered in a massive sweater, but since she was so short and slight, it didn’t hide much. Behind her, carrying his backpack and hers, came a slightly older boy. He was tall and heavy set, with the kind of face that made Brienne immediately want to trust him. He smiled at her.

“Hello—you’re new.”

“Yeah, Brienne Tarth.”

“Sam Tarly.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The girl lifted her eyes from the floor and offered a tiny smile. “I’m Gilly.”

“Hey.” Brienne tried her best to look non-threatening—an effort that would no doubt be thwarted when she stood up and became, like, three heads taller than her, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Come sit. Gil,” Osha shifted again, leaving the middle cushion free.

“Actually, I’m gonna moor myself on one of these,” she gestured to the two lime green beanbags that sat next to the lamp, and got a cute glint in her eyes. “But some one will have to help me out of it when I have to pee.”

“So in like fifteen minutes?” Jon teased gently, and Gilly laughed.

Everyone pretty much settled down to do their own thing—Asha went back to reading, Jon and Ygritte sat down on the carpet up against the back of the cabinets and started discussing their day so far; Osha pulled out her headphones, and Sam sat next to Gilly with his laptop and design tablet. Brienne let a pleased little smile grace her face as she fished some homework out of her bag.

 

 

0oOo0

 

As a Lannister, Tyrion had been forced to trade small talk with the children of Westeros’ most powerful families. He disliked most of them, and the ones he could endure usually disliked him. He supposed that was the burden that the unwanted son must bear.

The family he’d seen the least of over his lifetime were the Tyrells; they ran an incredibly successful empire that ranged from cosmetics to art galleries to publishing. They were what Tyrion’s father called ‘cultural faff and champagne’. And he’d put a fair amount of disdain into the title, too.

At the head of the empire was Olenna, the matriarch of the whole clan. When her husband died more than forty years ago, she’d taken over. And Tyrell Enterprises had blossomed under her reign. The keys to the castle were to be someday handed off to her granddaughter Margaery. She was just as witty and shrewd as the old lady, and Tyrion hadn’t seen her anywhere but the newspaper since they were children.

But five minutes before, his Econ teacher, Professor Baelish, had assigned he and Margaery to work together on an in-class assignment about the history of The Wall’s finances. And that was how he’d come to be standing before the Tyrell goddess.

“You’re Tyrion,” she said with a small upturn of her lips. “We met once, I believe, when we were children.”

“Yes, I-I remember.” Tyrion barely stuttered at all. Really, he was totally unaffected by this… gorgeous, angelic looking girl.

“You were most definitely the best part of that event, as I recall,” Margaery laughed. “All of us kids were so very bored, raising funds for orphans from Essos. You juggled dinner rolls, if I remember correctly.”

He blushed a bit. “That sounds like me.”

“And now we’re tasked with raising funds for the nice men of the Night’s Watch,” she grinned.

The two of them worked until the end of class, debating the merits of closing Castle Black and turning it into a museum or charging admission to piss off the top (Tyrion’s idea, of course). When Baelish dismissed them, they handed in their [incredibly messy] worksheet.

“I’ve never met a girl with worse handwriting.” He teased Margaery as they packed up their things.

“It’s the technical age, Tyrion, I type everything!”

“Marg?”

Tyrion turned to see a willowy redhead standing just inside the doorway, stage-whispering to his companion.

“Come on,” Margaery beckoned him. They didn’t speak until they’d snuck out without Baelish seeing.

“You know I hate going in there Marg, Usually you’re out in time to meet me at Valyrian Poetry.”

“I know darling, and I’m sorry, but Tyrion and I got caught up. Sansa doesn’t like going into Baelish’s class, “ Margaery explained to Tyrion. “He’s a creep on most days, but especially to her. Speaking of, Sansa Stark, meet Tyrion Lannister.”

“Pleasure.” He said. Sansa just nodded.

“Likewise.”

“ We have lunch plans with my grandmother, but we’re having a party this weekend, Tyrion—you should come over! Bring some people if you want.”

“Um… yeah, sure.”

“You remember where Highgarden is?” she asked slyly.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “I remember.”

“Great! See you Saturday night!”

Margaery and Sansa went out the front doors of the Red Keep and headed towards a waiting SUV. Tyrion went off to find Bronn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I'm not so sure who I want Tyrion to be with-- Margaery or Sansa. I kind of ship them both, so there may be a second OT3 in this story. 
> 
> BTW, Sansa isn't actually meek like she seemed in this chapter; just wary of new people.
> 
> Also thank you all for the wonderful comments and the kudos! It's all much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait you guys! This has actually been sitting on my computer for like a month, but I've been packing and moving and working 6 days a week, and I kept forgetting to post. Anyway, here's a short little thing that I'd prepped before the High Garden party. Jaime will show up in that one, I swear!

4\. Bronn and Tyrion had seemingly made it their mission to humiliate her through acts of friendship.

     Bronn had been hooking up with Margaery Tyrell in one of the empty faculty offices – apparently they’d bonded over their boredom in History of Old Valyeria—and she had invited him to the party just as she’d invited Tyrion. They meant to bring Brienne with them.

“No.”

Brienne didn’t even look up from her laptop.

“Live a little, Brienne!” Tyrion cajoled, hanging over the arm of the sofa to put his head in her way. “You might even have fun. Meet some more people outside of these freaks.”

“Fuck off Lannister.” Ygritte stated cheerfully.

“You know I say it with love, Ygritte.”

“Whatever. I’ll have you know I was invited to the party.”

Bronn chuckled. “Like fuck you were!”

“I was! Jon’s cousin is Sansa Stark, and she invited us. Thought we’d show our faces for a bit, anyway—you’d have someone to sit with Brie.”

Tyrion bristled. “Excuse me, but why wouldn’t she sit with us?”

“Because the second you get to High Garden Bronn and Margaery will sneak off to have sex in a hedge—”

“—That sounds bloody uncomfortable.” Bronn interjected. Ygritte flipped him off and continued.

“And you’ll chain yourself to a keg until some frat guys convince you to be thrown headfirst into the pool from the roof, like in high school.”

“…How do you know about that?” Ygritte had gone to high school at the Wall, not in Casterly.

“Jon knows Sam, Sam went to school in The Reach, and he saw you do it, at some party in Lannisport.”

“I’ll need to have a chat with Sam about ‘what happens at parties’.” Tyrion turned to Asha. “You’re on my side, right Greyjoy?”

“My brother would be one of the frat boys chucking you into the pool.” She didn’t even look up from her copy of The Bear and the Maiden Fair. “So I’m not going.”

“And I’m not going.” Brienne shook her head.

“Come on, Tarth, you can sit with Margaery and the girls.”

Brienne burst out laughing. “Yeah, because Margaery Tyrell wants to hang out with me.”

“She’s not like she looks,” Tyrion assured her. “And Sansa’s nice too. Come on, please?”

“No.”

* * *

 

     The next day, Tyrion, Bronn, Asha and Brienne were crowded into a booth in the campus café, trying—and failing—to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Tyrion!”

The group looked around to see none other than Margaery Tyrell entering the café and approaching them.

“Margaery! What a coincidence.”

“Yes, what a coincidence.” Brienne looked at her friend, clearly unimpressed. Tyrion gave her his best innocent face.

“Come over and sit, Marge, we were just talking about your party. I was trying to convince my friend Brienne here to accompany me.”

Margaery smiled with sincerity at Brienne. “Oh yes you simply must come! My brother and I consider it our mission to fill the house more full to bursting every year.”

“She’s nervous,” Tyrion continued as though Brienne weren’t there. “She’s new here—transfer from Bitterbridge.”

“Well then it’s settled! You’ll come and sit with my friends and I. Meet some new people. My brother’s boyfriend spent his sophomore year at Bitterbridge. Maybe you know him; Renly Baratheon?”

“Renly Baratheon is here?” Brienne asked. After a moment, what Margaery had said registered. “Renly Bartheon is _gay_?”

“As a may pole,” Margaery confirmed. “He and Loras make such a sweet couple. You simply must come Brienne, I’ll make sure you aren’t abandoned by this hooligan,” she jerked a thumb at Tyrion. “Please say you’ll come.”

With one last glare at Tyrion for good measure, Brienne sighed.

“All right, I’ll come.”


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm writing/posting this on my phone because I won't be home all day-- so we'll see how it goes. If there are any formatting issues, please feel free to put them in a PM and I'll try and rectify it when I get home tonight.

5   
Highgarden's driveway was a spiral surrounding the mansion on the hill before pulling into a large covered entryway. Brienne supposed that was so visitors could admire every angle of the residence before being shown into its depths. 

Brienne, in the back seat of Tyrion's chauffered car, was suitably impressed. And intimidated. She hoped that the grand house didn't mean she had to dress up-- the boys had approved her outfit; comfy jeans, flats, and a blue sleeveless blouse with a waist tie. The top wasn't really her. It was a present from one of her father's girlfriends, but for a party at Margaery Tyrell's house? She'd been obligated to try her best. 

On the last turn before the entryway, she turned to Tyrion. 

"Is this house shaped like a 'T'?"

He laughed. "Through the infinite arrogance of Luthor Tyrell, yes it is."

A footman opened the car door for them and they proceeded into the marble foyer. Even as a Lannister, Tyrion found the Tyrell homestead impressive; gilt roses surrounded the pillars holing up the roof, and a ceiling mosaic of gold roses on dark green jade. Any more detail was hidden by the mass of people milling around, talking and doing other things involving mouths. 

Tyrion crooked one finger through one of Brienne's beltloops to keep from losing her in the crowd. 

"How are we supposed to find anybody in this racket?!" Bronn asked over an overly peppy pop song. 

Thaankfully they needn't have worried-- from the top of the stairs they heard Margaery call, "Tyrion! There you are!"

The three of them waited while Margaery and Sansa descended the 'Y' shaped staircase and wove through the crowd toward them. 

"I'm so glad you came! Hey Brienne, have you met my friend Sansa Stark?"

"No-- hey, I'm Brienne."

"Sansa-- this is Sandor." She gestured to the guy who had followed them over. He could have easily been 30, and the side of his face not covered in angry-red burns was scowling. 

"Are you security?" Tyrion smirked. Sandor looked down at the dwarf with dead black eyes. 

"Sandor's my date." Sansa rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Sandor took Sansa's hand when the redhead moved too far away "We're gonna be by the pool Marg-- see you guys later!"

They waited a few moments while Sansa and her 'date' left hearing range, then Tyrion turned to Margaery. 

"Okay seriously, who is that guy?"

"They met in some poetry slam thing-- he tends bar at the pub where it was held. She swears he's some tortured soul, and I haven't been able to change her mind about him."

Margaery shrugged and flipped her shiny dark hair over one shoulder. "Come on Brienne, I'll introduce you to the girls-- see you boys later!"

Brienne looked desperately over her shoulder at Tyrion, who gave her a cheeky wave. She managed to send him a glare before the crowd swallowed him up. 

"You don't strike me as the 'keg' type," Margaery said conversationally as they walked through the study and the parlour. 

"Um-- yeah, I'm not."

"Good girl; we're usually holed up in the conservatory for these things-- it allows for maximum spying with all the windows, and there's a wall fridge where my granny hides her champagne."

They entered a room with two full storeys of windows on the wall facing them, with three sets of doors set in to allow access to the pool, spa and fountain in the courtyard. 

"Wow."

Margaery giggled. "It's home, I guess. My parents' place doesn't look anything like this; probably one of the reasons Granny insists that my brothers and I live at Highgarden rather than at home. Here you all are," she sighed dramatically to the group facing the pool-- an enormous silk sofa had been pulled across the floor to face the pool, and four people had arranged themselves on it. 

"Observing the masses?" Margaery inquired. 

"Checking out the party crasher." The girl laying across the top of the sofa snickered. 

"You can't crash a party that has an open invitation."

"He can." The other girl on the sofa was gorgeous and auburn-haired, but her mouth was twisted in a scowl. "Honestly you won't let me bring Stannis to these parties, but HE can waltz right in?"

"Don't call Dean Baratheon by his first name," the boy next to her said. "It's so fucking weird."

"Do shut up Loras, you aren't making a very good impression on Brienne-- Brienne, this is my brother Loras."

"Hi." The boy said, with a grin the exact mirror of his sister's. Brienne nodded. 

"Brienne? Brienne Tarth? It is you!" 

The other boy sitting with his head in Loras' lap sat up and turned to her. She took a deep breath. 

"Hi Renly."

"What are you doing in King's Landing?"

"Excuse me, could we get back to the matter at hand?" The scowling girl asked. 

"Of course. Brie, this is Melisandre. She's only a few inches shorter than you, so she'll probably take to wearing her platform heels now to preserve altitudinal superiority." Margaery winked. 

"Probably." Melisandre replied unconceredly. "Hi Brienne. Now can we PLEASE talk about the man who has just crashed your party?"

Margaery made the boys scoot up so Brienne could sit down, then perched herself on the back of the sofa next to the younger girl. 

"I'm Arya," the girl said, using one bent knee to tap Brienne's shoulder. 

"Hi."

They were interrupted by Margaery's gasp. "What is he doing here?"

"Told you." Melisandre sassed. 

"Who are we talking about?" Brienne asked Renly quietly. 

"The tall blonde guy over by the fountain. Longish hair, most handsome face you've ever seen?"

"Careful," Loras teased. 

"Sorry darling, but you have to admit Jaime is something else."

"Jaime?"

"Jaime Lannister, Tyrion's brother."

"And he wasn't invited?"

"Teachers aren't invited as a rule-- that's why Mel isn't allowed to bring her boyfriend."

She replayed the conversation mentally in her head. "You're DATING Dean Baratheon?"

"She calls him 'Stannis'" Renly stage whispered, snickering at Loras' full body shiver. 

"Yes, Stannis and I have been seeing each other since he and his wife parted ways."

"And before they parted ways."

"Can't prove it."

"Shut up." Margaery commanded. "How do we ask him to leave? I mean technically his classes haven't begun yet, but he's still a teacher."

"Barely though-- and he WAS a student here." Renly defended. 

"He was expelled!"

"Tyrion's brother was expelled?" Brienne asked in shock. "For what?"

"Nobody knows the specifics. Just Jaime, Stannis and Tywin Lannister, and none of them are talking."  
Melisandre replied. 

"All anyone knows is that Aerys Targaryen may have done some things that were very far off the mark to Jaime's cousin Cersei, and next thing you know Jaime's punching the boy's lights out. Permanently." Arya raised her eyebrows meaningfully. 

Brienne turned back to watch Jaime Lannister meet up with his brother at the keg, how Tyrion put on his "witty humor" face and Jaime started laughing. 

"He certainly doesn't act like a murderer."

"According to the law, he isn't one." Loras said. "'Justifiable homicide' and expulsion."

"But who knows how much his daddy paid for that ruling." Melisandre muttered. 

"That's not fair, we don't know that there was a bribe." Margaery said. "After he was expelled, his father arranged for him to finish his degree at Lannisport College. Rumor on the quad at Frosh Week was that he'd been hired by Dean Baratheon to teach all the new self-defence and phys ed courses."

"No-- not fencing. Tell me he isn't teaching fencing!" Renly cried, one hand over his face. "I'll never be able to concentrate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally catch sight of Jaime, even if it is through an open patio door and across from a pool at a party. Next chapter Renly and Brienne attend their first fencing class, and Cersei makes an appearance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be studying for an exam-- but I thought a little procrastination was in order. And I do mean little; this is the smallest chapter yet. I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Jaime watched his first year intro to boxing class limp out of the training room with satisfaction. He was a firm believer in tossing students completely to the wolves, or to the lions, rather. Now they all knew what they would be in for this semester. He anticipated not seeing half of them a second time. 

"Well, I see you haven't lost your touch for a good work out."

Barely managing to keep his groan in his head, Jaime turned to see his cousin Cersei lounging up against the door frame. "Care to work me out next?"

He ignored her lascivious smirk. "Only if you've signed up for fencing, because that's what I have next."

"It's the first day, Jaime, nobody expects anything on their first day." She spoke as if he were dense. "Just attendance-sign-dismiss them and we can go and christen your office."

Jaime sighed-- loudly. Turning to unlock the cabinet with the fencing equipment, he explained himself again.

"Cersei, I've told you-- and I kept telling you, all summer, when you wouldn't stop emailing and showing up at Casterly-- we're done. This is wrong, and it's sick, and I'm finished."

Apparently Cersei hadn't been listening-- surely she could saunter and listen at the same time?-- because when he turned around she was right on top of him. 

"You didn't think it was so sick that day out on the cliffs," she purred. "Or in the ocean, or in your dorm room at Lannisport--"

"Cersei." He put on his best teacher voice and gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. Space, that was what he needed. Space from that intoxicating cloud of Redwyne #5. "It's over."

Her beautiful face shifted from seductive to something ugly. It wasn't pain, or rejection-- it was anger. It promised vengence. 

Thankfully whatever she was about to say, or more likely screech, at him was interrupted by two of his fencing students arriving. Then three more a second later. They were all chattering, and nobody seemed to find Cersei's presence odd. But, he supposed, everyone knew them and their last name, so maybe their acceptance wasn't unusual. It still made him paranoid. 

"It's nice to see you, Cersei," he said, loudly enough so that the people closest to them could hear. "Now!" He raised his voice and clapped. All eyes turned to him. "This is a big class, folks, so what say we take the practice foils and begin in the quad today?" He took the rolling cart which held the foils in an upright position and led the class out, leaving a note on the door for stragglers. 

He didn't look back at Cersei.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! I'm so sorry, things have been horrible, and my GoT muse hasn't been very agreeable. However, I've been actually READING the books, along with the Practical Folks book club. If you're having trouble with the books, or feeling pressured with how big they are, I highly recommend Book Club. 
> 
> NOW, we meet four new characters, plot begins to thicken, and we meet one of the near-campus bars, The Dragon Pit.

Melisandre sat in the window and watched the fencing class three stories down in the quad. The group of around thirty worked their way through six basic footwork steps, their instructor calling numbers at random from their centre.

She felt a presence approach, their shoulder brushing hers. The sun escaped the clouds above, and down below the fencing teacher's hair glinted deep gold.

“Who's that?” Shireen Baratheon asked, leaning over her shoulder. Melisandre didn't have to ask who she meant. The Lannister shone like his family seat.

“That is Jaime Lannister.” she replied, not looking at her companion. Shireen was quiet, then hummed her approval.

“He's hot.”

“Shireen!” 

Across the room, Stannis looked up from his reports in horror. Melisandre couldn't help but laugh-- he looked well and truly scandalised.

“He is very hot, my princess.” Shireen poked her shoulder, and Mel moved over so they could both fit on the sill. “Perhaps next time we should go down to the quad and lay in the grass for a closer look.”

“Mel...” Stannis begged. “Try to be a good influence.”

Mel laughed again-- Stannis often thought she spent too much time laughing at him.

“She's thirteen, sweetling; she's discovering the possibilities of pleasure. Shireen could do worse for a lesson than Jaime Lannister.”

He shuddered. “I'd prefer if you two left the Lannisters alone.”

Mel smirked.

“There is no harm in looking.”

0oOo0

“Do yeh have any bar tending experience?” the huge man yelled at her over the music.

Dany nervously tugged on the beanie that hid her hair. “Not really,” she admitted. “I've waitressed before...”

The man behind the bar grunted. Only half his face moved normally; the other half was covered in old, healed burns. “You'll have to talk to the owner.”

“Now?” she asked. The phone in her back pocket began to vibrate. The burned man turned around to serve a customer at the end of the U-shaped bar, and Dany quickly fumbled for it. It wasn't in her contacts, but she'd memorised the digits these past few months; Harrenhall Prison. 

She hit ignore.

“Jorah's in his office,” the bartender said to her, jerking his head to the right while he poured a pint. 

“Thank you,” she replied, making sure to offer him a smile. If she was going to get this job, she'd have to make friends with the staff. But the man was concentrating on the tap and didn't see.

Daenerys marched across the pub to the flimsy door marked 'KEEP OUT' and knocked. The door didn't have a knob, just a hole where one should have been, so it teetered back and forth from the force of her knock.

A deep Northern accent answered.

"Come in."

Dany pushed the door back and stood on the threshold. A head of thinning blond hair was bent over paperwork. "Can I help you?"

She pulled herself up and used her most commanding voice.

"I'm here to apply for the job."

"Are you?" he asked. "Do you have experience?"

"...Not at tending bar."

"Have a resume?"

Dany stepped forward and slipped the single piece of paper onto his desk. She only had a reference from Illyrio. She'd never had a proper job.

"What is this?" he says, skimming the page.

"It's a reference. I've never... well, I've only ever worked for my family's friend. I just got here from Essos."

He hummed, and lowered the paper to look over it at her. He was quite tan, with blonde stubble and eyes that glowed in his darkened skin. He was rough looking and easily old enough to be her father, but she found him... interesting.

"So why come all the way from Essos? Don't you know winter is coming?"

"I'm studying political science across the street," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, where if she turned and looked she could see the River Gate leading into UWKL.

The man hummed again. He didn't sound impressed. 

"Please, I know I haven't got any experience, but I'm desperate and I'm a fast learner."

He nodded slowly, looking over the books before him then up at her.

"Alright Miss Khal, I'll give you a week. We'll see how it goes."

Dany grinned. "Thank you, Mr--?"

"Mormont. You can call me Jorah."

0oOo0

Jaime Lannister shook his head. It was actually a woman. The tall blonde creature that had been in his class for a whole week was a woman!

"Gods alive, you're a great beast of a woman." He hadn't actually meant to say that aloud, but no matter.

Or so he thought.

"Excuse me?" the girl said, turning the colour of an unattractive tomato. Her friend looked like he might hit Jaime.

"Hey, back off." the dark haired man said, glaring up at Jaime.

"Don't worry about it, Renly, let's just go." the blonde girl muttered, pulling her friend by one arm toward the door. 

"Asshole." Renly muttered.

That night, he mentioned to Tyrion what a strange day it had been. His little brother observed him over his beer.

"Very tall blonde girl? Blue eyes?"

"I didn't notice what colour her eyes were," Jaime rolled his eyes. "I was more worried that her lap dog was going to punch me."

"And you would have deserved it." Tyrion glared. Jaime raised his eyebrows. "She's a nice person, Jaime. You should know better than to judge people based on their looks-- especially given how crazy-slash-hot Cersei is."

Jaime wasn't really sure where all this was coming from.

"Where did you meet her?"

"Mutual friends. Don't be such an ass, big brother, and maybe you could make some friends of your own."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE, next chapter is Jaime, and then 10 will be Stannis/Davos/Melisandre.

8.  
UWKL is massive, housed in the remains of the old Red Keep. The walls are crumbled now, and it's surrounded by trees and bars and trails on the hill that once prevented siege, but the spires still stand tall. It's the biggest university in Westeros, followed by White Harbout Institute of Technology and Bitterbridge University.

There's a lot you can say about UWKL, apart from the crime rate; from their academics to their truly frightening propensity for fireworks, but the worst thing by far are the GC-Alpha. It sounds like a douchey name for a military extraction team, but it's worse. 

GC stands for Gold Cloaks, and they are the Alpha branch of the Gold Cloak Fraternity. In mean girls terms, they are the worst people you would ever meet. You have to have a family legacy to get in, and it's probably a good thing-- it's only the filthy rich who would want to pledge a frat where garish gold capes and swords are worn by Brothers during rush. Pledges are made to kiss the hem of the cloak, and at least one kid every year walks around with an eye patch because there eye was stuck with some drunk guy's plastic fucking sword. They're a pain in Dean Baratheon's behind, for sure, but he can't get rid of them. Tywin Lannister and the Dean's brother, Junior Senator Robert Baratheon were members, and they donate. They donate BIG.

Jaime Lannister was once in GC-Alpha, too, in his life before. Looking back now, he was thankful to have been transferred to Lannisport. Nobody ever quit the Gold Cloaks, or at least nobody ever tried; once you were in, you were in for good. But certain people had been expelled. Still others had never been invited to join. His brother Tyrion, for example. GCA would not lower themselves to allow a dwarf to pledge, even if he was the second son of the great Tywin Lannister. 

Jaime opened the door to his flat in the White Tower Faculty Residence to find his television on and the bottle of 20-year-old White Harbour Bourbon open on the counter.

Rolling his eyes at the head poking up from behind the sofa, Jaime says, “I gave you a key for emergencies, brother.”

Tyrion doesn't look away from the Essosi football. “And Maegor's Res is dry.”

Jaime battled a smile. “An emergency indeed.”

He rounded the sofa and took the half-empty glass his little brother was offering him. “Who's winning?”

“Who cares?” Tyrion said. “I'm only here to drink your liquor and chew you out for being an asshole to my friend earlier.”

“What friend?” Jaime and Tyrion were friends; between Tyrion's looks and the Aerys shitshow, they'd been each others' only friends for years. Jaime found himself a little bit hurt.

“New acquaintance,” his little brother assured him. “Blonde girl. Extremely tall. Apparently you teach her fencing?”

“The big beast of a woman?” Jaime asked, chuckling at the idea of that girl and Tyrion walking the quad together.  
“Her name is Brienne, and you shouldn't be such a douche.” Tyrion allowed a smirk to pull up his irregular features. “And Renly Baratheon threatened to punt me all the way to Visenya's Hill because you'd mistaken her for a man and called her names.”

“Renly Baratheon can kiss my left nut,” Jaime flopped onto the sofa. “Even you have to admit she looks like a man.”

Tyrion shrugged. “Maybe. But you didn't have to comment on it. Besides, those legs and those eyes don't belong on a man, brother, in case you were too busy giggling at your own sense of humor to notice.”

“I'll keep an eye out for them next time,” Jaime snarked back.

0oOo0

Brienne was leaving the campus coffee house and hurrying to class when she heard someone calling her name. To her complete and total surprise, Margaery Tyrell herself was jogging to catch up with her. 

If that weren't enough, she was also running in shiny little black pumps, looking more graceful than Brienne has ever looked in her life.

“I'm so glad I caught you!” Margaery said, really looking like she meant it. “I know we haven't seen each other since my party the other night, but I was just at brunch with Renly and he told be about what that cad Jaime Lannister said to you.”

Brienne managed to prevent her blush from going too far past her ears.

“It was nothing...”

“It absolutely was not,” Margaery's warm eyes flashed. “He's not some frat boy now, he's a teacher at the school and he had no right to be so disrespectful.”

“Oh... well, thanks.”

Margaery beamed. “Don't mention it. I actually flagged you down because a bunch of us are going to hang out at mine and Sansa's tonight, and I wanted you to join.”

This time Brienne was pretty sure the flush proceeded into her hairline. “That's really nice of you, Margaery, but--”

“Please don't make us kidnap you.” It sounded joking enough, but with her confident stance and her shrewd smile, Brienne more than believed Margaery and her friends would find her dorm and spirit her away into the night. “It's just Lyseni food and making fun of the bimbos on that horrible 'Whispers' channel. Nothing fancy, I promise.”

Knowing she wasn't going to get to class on time unless she submitted, Brienne agreed. 

“Oh good! Arya will be so pleased, she's been suffering 'chicks' for so long-- her word, not mine-- I really think she'd benefit from being friends with someone like you, Brienne.”

With that strange attempt at a compliment, Margaery smiled and disappeared into the coffee shop herself.

Brienne pulled herself together and went to class.

0oOo0

Someone, probably Renly, had given Margaery her mobile number, and that afternoon she received a cheery text message with the Stark/Tyrell room number in Maiden's Hold Hall, and the assurance that she didn't need to bring anything with her; just herself.

When she knocked on room 302 that night, the little Stark girl answered it.

“Thank GOD,” she groaned, pulling Brienne in by the wrist. “I love them all, really I do, but there is only so much 'Rich Bride Poor Bride' I can take.”

“What?”

“You probably don't even want to know, but by the end of the night knowledge of the Whisper Network will be forced securely into your brain.”

“And at least you should have some food while we corrupt you.” Margaery grins, giving Brienne an air kiss and pressing a plate into her hands. “The Lyseni is on the table in front of the couch.”

“Hey Brie!” Sansa Stark was all bluebird onesie and long red ponytail as she bounced into the kitchen. 

“Hi.” Brienne replied, confused and dismayed at all this female attention. Girls are not nice to her. Girls mock her height or her build or her face, they don't offer her Lyseni food and kiss her cheek like they were old friends.

“Come on, 'Real Housewives of Volantis 'is starting. Melisandre should be here any second.”

Like she'd been summoned, Melisandre sailed into the flat without knocking. “Tell me again why I take night classes on 'Real Housewives' night?”

“Because the night is dark and full of terrors, and you love it.” Margaery supplied. She shoved a bottle at Mel, who was now scooping her plate full of rice and fruit and those little deep-fried rolls Brienne could never remember the name of.

“Oh bless you,” the red head sighed, snapping the cap off the bottle with the edge of the table.

“If we don't get our security deposit back, I'm sending a bill to your parents.” Sansa said.

Melisandre shrugged. “Whatever.”

Brienne followed the group into the living room, feeling bemused. Someone had shoved a fork into her hand, and Arya was seated on the back of the couch again holding a plate piled with more food than Brienne herself.

Margaery took control of the remote as Sansa turned to her sister. “You're like an animal.”

Arya grinned and took a large bite of fried rice, masticating it with her mouth wide open. Sansa shuddered and Brienne found herself laughing.

“Oh, by the way, I found our newest friend.” Melisandre told them. On the TV screen before them, two women were wrestling in a puddle of Arbor Red. 

“Can't we have a break before we bring anyone else in?” Arya sighed. “It's weird enough having to remember to order dinner for five instead of four.”

There was a crease between Sansa's perfect brows. “And it's not even your turn.”

“We should allow Brienne to acclimatise first.” Margaery allowed. “She's not even realised we want to be her friend yet.” She winked at Brienne. “Speaking of, we'll need your room number and your mobile as well. Best friends text.”

“Ooh, I'll add you to the group chat on Raven!” Sansa lurched across the sofa to retrieve her phone.

“Um... okay.” Brienne's mind was running slower than usual, with so many pretty women looking at her. Given that some, like Melisandre and Arya, weren't conventionally pretty, but they were lovelier than her. “I live in White Sword Tower, on the third floor with all the graduate students.” 

“That sounds boring.” Margaery said. “Never any good parties hosted by grad students.” Brienne wanted to argue that, but it wasn't exactly untrue. “You should move in with us.” The women on the TV were now crying at the camera, mascara was everywhere-- it was distracting.

“What the... pardon?”

“Grandmother always pays off old Baratheon so me and Sansa share a three bedroom suite. It's extremely useful.”

“It's for storage, but that's where we put Renly when he passes out after parties, usually.” Sansa informed her.

“Nobody's been in there this early in the year yet, though. So you should take it.”

“I really couldn't impose...”

“Nonsense. Who are you rooming with now?”

“Her name's Jeyne... she's from The Crag."

“So she's a great deal of fun, I'm sure.”

Brienne actually thought Jeyne was... sweet. They had separate bedrooms, so they didn't have to be around each other very much, though she was on the phone with her mother a lot. And the walls were quite thin.

“Jeyne's been fine-- I'm working on my thesis, so I don't have a lot of time for hosting parties.”

“Oh darling, we don't host-- not here. Hosting is for Highgarden or Sansa's Dad's senate house. No, people invite us to parties here. And you don't have to come. Though there is every chance Sansa will wake you at two am with her rousing rendition of “Sun and Stars”.

“That was one time, you bitch!” Sansa cried. “But really Brie, you should totally move in with us. We can do homework, you could maybe teach Arya to chew with her mouth closed--” in response to that, the smaller Stark kicked her sister in the head from her perch. “Ow, Arya!”

In truth, Brienne would never be able to figure out what made her say it, but she found herself agreeing to move in with two of the most popular girls in school.

 

A/N: I wanted to give you all a much longer chapter because you've all been so patient with me, but the next one is all Jaime, so I thought it might be best if it was posted on its own. I hope you enjoyed this one, and the next one should be up soonish!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to who Melisandre will pick to join the group? Hint: She's not named in the show.


End file.
